The Heart, it Races
by SleepingSeeker
Summary: Casey decides to give Raph the gift of manhood upon his 21st birthday. It goes all kinds of wrong - thankfully someone shows up to make things right. It was supposed to be a light, fun, sexy piece and - well, you'll have to read on to see what happens. Blend of the comics, movie and 2k3 'verse. RaphxApril. Rated M. (Nominated for 2013 AFFA's for Most Romantic and Best Hetero)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Originally published only on Tumblr and the Naughty Section of the Stealthystories II website - I have been persuaded by certain individuals, *cough* turtleficlibrary *cough* Novus Ordo Seclorum to name a few *cough* to bring it to fanfiction for my sweet readers. Titled after a song, no surprise there, but altered thanks to my friend, Novus' suggestion to make it even more lovely, thank you for that, Novus!

It is my first attempt at a more purely 'smut' fic - but you guys know me, you can't have sex without the pain, drama, fear, angst, RIGHT?! ...or is that just me? In either case, I hope you enjoy . . .

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**The Heart, it Races**

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**Chapter 1**

Casey paced. He ran an agitated hand over the rough nubs covering the lower half of his face and throat. He knew the ride was a long one. But this was the only best place to do what needed to be done. It had been a long time coming. The night was perfect. The excitement was an invisible buzz in the air. He felt like he could barely stand still so he didn't. He paced and paced some more, wearing a path in the dried grass below his boots.

The rumble of the motorcycle brought him to a standstill. He waved in a wide arc over his head. The yellow gleam of the single headlight coming down the long driveway captured the gesture, lighting up the entire form of the man before dousing him once again in darkness. The bike grumbled and rolled to a stop a few feet away. Raphael threw his leg over the seat and ripped the helmet from his head. He jabbed it under one arm and wheeled the motorcycle into the cover of a nearby overgrowth of small trees and untended bushes. He tossed his helmet into the scrub and turned back to Casey. With a blur of movement, his sais were out and clutched between his thick fingers. He snarled and raced up to his friend.

"Where are they," he asked, eyes darting through the darkness around them.

Casey stood with one arm wrapped around his ribs, opposite elbow braced on it, pressing his index finger into his mouth. He rocked back and forth, stopping to bounce on his toes a bit. His eyes were bright and twinkling the way they do when the man was very drunk or very high on the rush of a battle. He stood there like that staring at Raphael before twisting his body around to glance at the farm house behind. It loomed in the gloaming shadows around them. Some ethereal light illuminated the back of the house, giving it an even more sinister appearance than its usual decrepitude lent to it.

With one thumb, Casey indicated the house behind. With a barely concealed chuckle, he said, "Last I saw, they went in the house."

Raphael let that sink in a moment, then straightening, blinking in obvious confusion he said, "Wait. They? They who? You said they ran into yer house?" His gaze snapped from the house to Casey back to the house again. It sat in silent peaceful stillness. For the first time, he noticed that some of the lights were on inside and then slowly, music could be heard faintly pumping out a steady bass into the night air.

Casey nodded as he sucked in his upper lip. Raphael eyed him, he took a step closer and sniffed at him. With one eye closed he reared back. It wasn't alcohol that burned his delicate and sensitive nerves in his nose, but a healthy dose of cheap cologne. He jammed his sais back into their leather straps on his belt, hanging over the leather pants he wore whenever he rode his bike. Besides the pants he had a leather bomber jacket. Casey threw his arm around his shoulders and Raph wrinkled his nose as he was once again assaulted by the foul fumes.

"Now, I know I called ya here, sayin' there was an emergency."

"Casey, if yer gonna stand there and tell me this is some sorta joke, after I rode my ass all the way up here, there will be an emergency here. A life-threatening one."

Casey titled his head and gave Raphael a little jerk towards the house. "Just c'mon with me." He patted Raph on the chest. "Just be your typical sweet self and everything will be fine."

Raphael shrugged out of his buddy's hold. This was getting more and more irritating. He didn't mind sneaking out to party with his friend, but why did the guy scare him like that? When Casey called, he seemed worked up or now that he thought about it, he sounded keyed up and over-excited. Raphael ran a hand over his face. Maybe he had been a little too eager to bolt from the lair. The day had been one to test his nerves. Though everyone had meant well.

"Do you have any idea the shit I had to put up with in order to get out here?" he asked incredulously. "Donnie and Mikey were pissed. And Leo. Jesus, the guy was havin' kittens. Any other night might've been fine, but, Casey, it's . . . it's . . ."

Casey held up his hands in surrender. He ducked is head. "Your birthday. I know." He shouted, "Of course I know! What kinda friend doesn't know when his best bro's birthday is?"

Raphael's mouth hung open. A look of complete confusion on his face. Casey continued up towards the house, walking unsteadily backwards. Raphael unwittingly followed, wondering if the guy had lost his marbles. Maybe he got clocked with one of his own golf clubs.

He started to sing in an off key voice, "How old are ya now? How old are ya now? How OLD are you" he pointed at Raph and brought his hands up in question and when Raph only glared at him he went on, "Na-ow? How old are you naaaaoooow?"

"Are you high?"

Casey guffawed at that and hopped up the stairs. He continued to flash two fingers and then one on opposite hands. But Casey wasn't wrong. He'd turned twenty one today. According to Master Splinter's estimations and the count of ridges on his shell, he was a year younger than Don, two years younger than Leo. Casey beat a drum roll on his thighs then stood up straight. Raphael couldn't help but chuckle at his asinine friend as he pulled open the door and brought one arm across his middle.

"After you, good birthday sir."

Raphael made to slap him as he walked past, deciding that after riding all the way up here to the farmhouse the least he could do before heading back out would be to grab a snack and a quick beer. But as he turned into the kitchen, his legs stuttered to a halt and his feet froze. His amber eyes went wide as he was greeted by a room filled with balloons, streamers of red and white hanging sloppily from the ceiling in twirling curls, a table covered with pizza and beer and bottles of liquor he couldn't name. But more than all that were the two women standing next to the table; hugging each other and squealing out a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' in a pitch that no human nor mutant ear should have been able to hear and live to tell the tale.

His mouth dropped open and instinctively he started to lean back to make his escape. His heels struck the floor as he scrambled backwards. Only he couldn't get too far with Casey closing and locking the door behind him. Raph lumbered into him and Casey caught him, effectively holding him upright.

"Wh-What the fuck is this?" he hissed.

He felt Casey pat him on his shoulders. "This . . . is yer party, bro. Relax. And you're welcome."

"R-Relax?!" he choked out, looking up at the man with eyes wild with a hint of panic.

Casey's face was split into a wide grin. He reminded Raph of a smiling ape. "Relax," he repeated and chuckled. Both of them turned their sights to the giggling pair. He hadn't realized that he'd pressed so tightly against the man that he felt Casey shrug as he said, "They ain't gonna hurt 'cha. _Much_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Raphael straightened up, face darting about, unable to stop himself from searching for a way to escape. From the corner of his mouth he ground out, "I'm gonna kill you, you dumbass." Though the music coming from the other room was so deafening, he wondered if Casey had even heard him. He inched around the room giving the women watching him a wide berth and an even wider squinty-eyed, patronizing smile. His hands were both up in a placating manner. Best not to startle the wildlife. He had no idea what the hell Casey was thinking tricking him to come up here and then springing this stunt on him, but he knew one thing: the man was due a solid beat down for this.

He edged towards the end of the room where it met a long narrow hallway. But before he could go more than a step into the welcoming dimly lit escape route, Casey's meaty paw clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around to face the women. The heels of Raphael's motorcycle boots squealed in protest against the laminate floor.

"Don't be shy, Buddy," he said to Raph, wheedling him around to stand in front of him. Then to the girls, he announced, "Birthday boy here is new to all this attention. Just like I told ya."

Raphael stiffened and blinked at that, wondering just what the hell Casey had said about him to these females. The fact that he was standing exposed in a room with strange women and Casey was acting like it was just another day down in the lair was more than surreal. The women crowded around him and he found himself jerking away and knocking into Casey who stood behind him like a jail guard. Their perfume wafted over him and to his surprise, he found it . . . nice. The blonde's in particular. It smelled spicy, almost burning his sensitive nose, but catching his attention, nonetheless.

He noticed for the first time their clothes. Or rather the very small amount of clothing they wore. Hell, he was in more clothes than the two of them together. He felt his face heat along with the back of his neck as they came up to him, body parts jiggling and bouncing in a way that made his mouth go dry. His heart sped up, thumping uncomfortably against his ribs. And between his legs, under his plastron his manhood stirred.

"Aw, he _is _cute, though, for a freak," the brunette said, her long curls highlighted with streaks of bright red, bouncing as she nodded to her friend.

Raph bristled, "Hey!"

"Charlotte don't mean like that. Me and her are just as freaky on the inside," the blonde explained with a significant look at her partner. "We just didn't have anything," her long pink fingernails fluttered over her and her friend's body in a general manner, "done."

"That's right, sweetheart," Brunette, named Charlotte replied and snapped her gum in his face.

The sound made Raph twitch. He ground his teeth together as he put together what Casey must have told these two. It was bad enough to have to go through life as an outcast and freak of nature, it was another thing for his supposed friend to be telling people he was a nut case. Casey was going to get that beat down and then some. But his pleasant thoughts of pounding Casey's face into the asphalt were interrupted as a warm hand ran up his bare chest. Goosebumps broke out all over his arms and legs in response. He jumped and bit back a yelp as her fingertips pulled and yanked along the top most edge of his plastron.

_"Back off!"_ he snarled and his face must have looked pretty scary for both women fell back a few steps, their mouths open in a large 'O' shape. He felt Casey patting him on the shoulders and he rounded on him, a low growl rumbling out of him.

"Whoa, bud, whoa! Rela-ah-ax! Will you please? You're actin' like I brought you into a room full of Purple Dragons. Ain't no one gonna hurt you here."

Raphael bunched his fist into Casey's shirt and dragged him down the hall. Casey called out, "Lola, will you get him a drink?" He stuttered out as Raph yanked him harder, "A strong one, please!"

The thumping music was giving him a migraine. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand and ran it over his face. He wanted to leave right then and there, but he needed to give Casey a piece of his mind first. Some birthday this was turning out to be. "I am not going to relax. I am going home. You-You asshole. What the hell were you thinkin' callin' me up and lyin' and then springin' these . . . these . . ."

"They're called girls, Raph," Casey said, taking the two shot glasses from the blonde named Lola then shoo'ing her back into the kitchen. She went with a skip and a giggle and Raph followed her with his eyes, unable to help but notice the rounded rump of her backside as it bounced and swayed beneath a tiny skirt that looked like liquid gold. Casey handed one glass to Raph and without thinking, Raph took it and threw it back. Eyes still glued to Lola's ass. He grimaced and traded the empty glass for the next one in Casey's hand and downed that one two. It burned like hell. Raph bared his teeth and shuddered. Better. Casey patted him on the shoulder and Raph shrugged it off. "Raph," Casey laughed, "It's okay, man. They're here for you. Don't you get it?"

Raphael's eyes snapped to his friend. He stared at Casey, his amber eyes bouncing between the man's blues. Actually, he didn't quite get it. But he was starting to get an idea. Insubstantial and impossible. But it was taking shape in the back of his mind somewhere. His face flushed. Casey continued standing there grinning like an ape. After a moment, he wagged his brows at Raphael and the turtle dropped his head to one side with a huff that may have been a soft chuckle.

"Ah, now you're getting' it. Finally," Casey said with a dramatic roll of his eyes and bob of his knees. Then chuckling, he went on, "Damn, if I had any idea you'd be this confused I woulda' talked to you about this before. Man, didn't Masta' Splinter ever tell ya about the bees and birds and shit?"

Raphael's eyes flashed at him. Actually, Splinter never quite explained anything to them about sexual matters. Raphael guessed the old rat figured it would never be something that needed to be addressed. He was twelve when he first came across a discarded magazine covered in the glorious pale pink flesh. He stashed it away in his room and stayed up all night flipping from cover to cover. And the next night and the next. Thankfully no one questioned why he was volunteering to wash the bedding for everyone all week. He didn't understand any of it, but he knew what it made him feel. Hot and cold and good and . . . and bad. Ashamed and dirty. He kept it well hidden and swallowed up all his questions along with the guilt he felt about it. Once he nearly asked Leo if he'd ever come across anything like the magazine, for he was sure he did, but he chickened out at the last moment, deciding he'd rather not know if Mr. Perfect was as tarnished as he.

In response to Casey's question, he fidgeted and then ground out, "It never came up."

Casey ran a hand through his hair and whistled. He stared at Raph for a moment and gave a shake of his head. "Well, you're in for a treat, my brother."

Raphael pressed his lips together and shaking his head, backed up a step, hands up. The familiar shame welled up. "N-No. This is a bad idea. Casey, a bad, bad idea."

The effects of the alcohol were loosening up the taunt muscles in the back of his neck. He stared down the hallway towards the kitchen, above the music, he could hear the women's giggles and the sound of drinks being poured. He swallowed dryly. Feeling tipsy, he could still think straight and if these girls were the type of girl he thought they were, then there was no way in hell he was staying. No matter what Casey had said to them, there'd be no explaining . . . his eyes traveled to his tightening crotch – the traitor - before staring straight ahead. His stomach clenched. He felt slightly sick. The doubt must have shown on his face.

Casey said gently, "Raph, this may be the one chance you get. No one has to know. I swear it's safe. You'll be fine." After a pause, he bounced on his toes, "C'mon, it's your birthday. You're a man now. Or you will be soon," Casey implored. He patted Raphael roughly on the arm. "Besides that they were fuckin' expensive as hell."

Raphael licked his lips slowly, considering. His heart was thumping along with the music. He felt claustrophobic and dizzy. This might be his only chance. And as far as his brothers knew, he was running out to spend the rest of the evening with Casey. What would be the worst thing that could happen? That he loses his virginity? He'd never thought that there'd ever be a snowball's chance in hell that it would ever happen and now here was his chance. All he knew was that he trusted Casey. More or less. The guy had his back often enough. He even thought of Casey as the older brother he wished Leo was. It was decided then. He'd give it a try. Though part of him still screamed that this had fucked up written all over it, he had to admit, the blonde smelled really nice. And if it all went to hell, he could blame Casey.

"Wh-Which one's for me?" he ventured in a hesitant voice, eyes going back to the kitchen where the women were now standing at the end of the hallway, waving and blowing kisses at him.

"What?" Casey asked coming out of a daze from staring at the women.

Stuttering, Raph, warring between his embarrassment and burgeoning interest and wanting to just scream fuck it all and run for it, stammered, "W-Well, th-there's two. Uh, wh-which one's f-for me?" He really hoped he got the blonde. Though it didn't really matter. Getting laid was still getting laid.

Casey threw his head back and chortled. "Oh! Yeah. No. They're both yours."

Raph's face snapped back to the women who were now motioning for him to come back to the room with them, drinks in one hand, hips swaying to the bass of the music. His throat worked as he felt his body temperature rise as he hardened despite his fear. Casey, laughing his ass off, pushed him back towards the women. His stomach clenched and flipped.

"Oh god."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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Before he knew it, there was another glass in his hand full of amber colored liquid. He downed that one and wondered how many it had been. It wasn't even burning anymore. His body felt heavy while his head was floating, barely attached by the neck like a balloon straining to head skyward. He had mostly kept his shell to the wall, nodding and smiling with a nervous, wavering smile that made him look more like he was experiencing a particularly painful case of constipation than having anything remotely like fun. Every time his glass was empty, it was replaced by either Casey or one of the women.

His eyes searched around for the clock but the walls were moving around so much, he continually looked from the woman laughing and chatting with each other to Casey who was keeping a wary eye on him. He felt his face burn with the idea that he was somehow disappointing his friend by keeping himself out of the conversations, but what the hell was he supposed to talk about? He could barely follow the women's chattering nonsense about some contest on television, so he drowned it out. Stewing alone inside his head and warring with the twin pull of wanting to bolt and wanting to stay.

The room was spinning and tipping in a mostly pleasant way an hour later when Lola rose up out of the general happy din and stood before him. She pulled him away from the wall by one arm. The thumping bass of the music had dissolved into something low and repeating, sensual and heady. He hadn't even noticed when that happened. The room was dimmed and Casey was talking in a low voice while standing very close to Charlotte near the back door. His eyes roved over to Raph and he gave him an encouraging nod and a wry smile. Without too much resistance, Raphael's feet shuffled forward.

"C'mon, baby, you've been hugging that wall all night. I want some."

Raph's mind scattered and he could only nod in recognition that he was being spoken to. Lola gazed at him from under purple lined eyelids. Her face was tilted to one side as she draped both arms over his shoulders and bumped her pelvis up close to his. His face flushed violently. His hands stood out on either side of her hips, unsure of where to put them or what to do with them. But Lola continued to sway side to side, grinding herself gently but firmly against him and slowly, his hands came down for a landing, resting gently on her hips.

He'd never danced like this before. Not with a partner. Though he could hold his own against his little brother during any dance off they'd sometimes have for kicks back home, he felt like a clumsy donkey clopping around in his motorcycle boots with this tiny, soft, nice-smelling woman pressing up against him. She rested her head on his chest, between his chin and shoulder and he felt his body turn to molten jelly even as his erection strained against the confines of his lower plastron further being secured by the front of the tight jeans he wore.

The closest he'd ever come to a woman without being in the midst of a violent battle was the one time he'd rescued a prostitute from her pimp. He'd been in the middle of beating her with a pipe when Raphael stumbled across the scene. While the man laying bleeding in a heap, he'd turned to help the woman to her feet. As she stood, she fell forward and Raphael's arm and chest felt the brush of the soft mound of one of her exposed breasts, battered and bruised, but still impossibly soft. His throat had tightened as well as his groin. Once she got a better look at his face, he was left standing alone in the middle of the alley, the sound of her hysterical shrieking still ringing in his ears. His erection still throbbing despite his humiliation. Shamefully, later that night, he'd masturbated furiously with that single moment of her against him, vividly replaying over and over in his mind.

Besides that it had only been April. Her freckled face rose up in Raphael's mind and a soft smile played along his mouth with the vision. Memories of tender embraces, of the gentle press of her hand to his arm, cheek, once to his thigh that featured prominently in his lonely nights of pleasuring himself, filled his mind. He felt warm with the thought of the woman, the only woman who'd ever accepted them. The amazing, incredible woman who was at turns: friend, confidant, care-taker and secret object of deeply guarded and hidden love as well as shameful desire.

Suddenly, he wanted more than anything just to be home. Even if it meant to be a virgin the rest of his days. He knew what he wanted. It just wasn't ever going to happen. Not in his lifetime. Not in this universe.

"What am I doin'," he muttered to himself, pulling slightly away.

Lola writhed against him, clutching him tighter as she felt him making his escape and replied, "Havin' fun, I hope."

"Er, uh, yeah, no. I am. It's been great," he sounded as convincing as an executioner trying to assure the man on his knees that he really wouldn't feel a thing when the axe came down. His words slurred badly, accent getting heavier with the alcohol's influence, he added, "So . . . much . . . fun."

He swallowed and looked again at Casey for reassurance, for some help, for some understanding, but his friend had his back to them and was stepping through the screen door. Where the hell was he going? Raph's eyes widened and in a panic, he fumbled at Lola, pushing her a little too roughly away from himself. She lumbered backwards and bumped into the table. Several bottles tipped and something rolled off the surface and shattered on the floor. Lola giggled shrilly. She picked up another glass and released it to let it fall to the floor with another bright explosion of sound.

"Awesome!"

"Case, hey, man!" He twisted around at the sound of the glass breaking. He frowned, not understanding what her problem was and chalked it up to her trying to get his attention. "Uh, sorry, just give me, uh . . . be right back," then he stumbled towards the door. Charlotte caught him by one arm, halting him with a jerk.

"Oh no, you're not getting away from us that easy," she said and snapped her gum at him, making his eyes flinch in a tight, fast blink.

His temper flared as his eyes flashed down to her hands restraining him.

"Look, chick, why don' you getch'er fuckin' -" he started with a low growl, lip pulled back in an aggressive snarl.

"_Raph_," Casey called, laughing loudly and nervously, "What did we just talk about, about being nice to the nice ladies who are here just for you?"

He disengaged Charlotte's hands from Raphael's arm and she huffed away with a pouting look and poured herself another drink, muttering under her breath that she'd be asking for more money by the end of the night. Next to her Lola dropped another glass. Raphael cringed with the offending sound of shattering glass. Casey's face withered at Raphael's furious expression. In an angry hush, he pulled Raph close, "What is your problem, dude? Can you not just fuckin' relax? I spent a lot of money on your ass. You know it doesn't fuckin' grow on trees, right?"

It was Raphael's turn to pout. "I dunno. This . . . This isn't a good idea." He wanted to tell him he just wanted to go home. But he was already sounding too much like a whiny baby. So he bit back the plea.

Casey stared desperately at him.

Raphael's shoulders slumped. "I-I'm tryin'. But it ain't easy, okay? I ain't used ta dis kinda . . . crap."

Casey eased him back and closed his eyes with a patient sigh. He smoothed Raphael's jacket down and gave him a pat. "Buddy, it's gonna be okay. Please. Can you trust me on this? When have I ever lied to you?"

Raphael opened his mouth and frowned as Casey cut him off.

"That's not important right now. Look, it's nearly midnight. Your birthday's almost gone. I want you to have this, man. You deserve this. Okay? Look at me. Okay?"

He raised his amber eyes then dropped them away. He mumbled something incoherent.

With a sigh, Casey turned Raphael around. He proceeded to march him through the kitchen, past the ladies to the living room and turned him to face the stairs leading to the second floor of the farm house. Raphael plodded along, feeling too dizzy to fight but also growing more wary of where he was being led to. Something in the back of his mind was sending warning flares as the toe of one boot struck the edge of the wooden step on the way up.

"Where 'er you takin' me?"

"You're gonna just go with me on this, Bud. You can thank me in the morning," Casey said as he continued prodding and pushing Raphael up the steps. Several times Raphael swayed to one side where he had to grip the railing to steady himself. He made it to the second floor and Casey drove him forward then left into a room.

Raphael's feet skidded to a halt. It was a bedroom. He spun and Casey grabbed him firmly.

"N-No, I-I don't wanna do dis," Raph said, his face a mask of panic. "C'mon, dis is a bad idea, a fuckin' _bad _idea," he implored.

Casey, laughing and batting away his friend's drunken attempts to break free, backed him up until his backside hit a padded chair and immediately flopped into it. From behind him, the two women appeared. Raphael gripped the wooden armrests with pale knuckled force. His eyes bounced from between Casey to over his shoulder where it appeared the women were taking off their clothes.

"_Haah_," Raph breathed.

"Do I need ta tie you to the chair?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon, Raph. I've never had to accuse you of being a chicken shit before."

Raphael's face darkened. His temper flaring to life. "What t' fuck did you just say?" he slurred and his threat sounded more silly than menacing.

"Oh no, you ain't getting outta this by startin' a fight with me. Now, listen, I'm gonna be out front if you, uh, need anything later. Until then," he patted Raphael's face, "have fun, birthday boy." He snickered and then bolted out of the room. Calling over his shoulder, "Treat 'em gentle, girls. It's his first time."

Charlotte twisted the lock and said, "I'm not promisin' nothin'!"

Lola giggled as the two women faced Raphael who was squirming in his seat, looking a mix of terrified and mortified.

"Oh, fuck me," Raph muttered.

"That's the idea," Charlotte said with a loud snap of her gum and Lola tittered.

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**A/N: ** I just can't see this as ever being easy for them. Ever. They have so much shame over what they are, what they look like, etc. Think about how hard it is for some people who just feel a bit bad about their weight or stretch marks or whatever now times that by, like, a million. So, yeah, not easy.

Don't forget to review - the juicy stuff begins in the next chapter! And HEY! The Adult Fanfiction Awards are taking Nominations right now! Any sexy story, or story with some aspect of sex in it, be it consensual, noncon, dubcon, etc. - rated R or higher - is eligible. See my profile on Devianart for more info and all the fun categories! You don't have to nominate in every category - nor do you have to be a member at Stealthystories to participate, though we'd like ya to join and have fun with us! Send in those nominations!

Stealthystories DOT prophpbb DOT com


	4. Chapter 4

**Some smut below. **(nudity, Het, stripping, etc.) Enjoy.

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**Chapter 4**

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The music continued its new sultry, hypnotic rolling beat as Raphael watched the two women, now clad in only thin bits of straps, lace, and fishnet stockings give each other a sly glance and then started to sway and dance to the music. Raphael's momentary distress at being left alone with the two strange women was forgotten as his eyes locked on their undulating motions. Arms rose and nails drew faint lines down along skin. Hair bounced and bunched through hands before falling over shoulders and across painted cheeks. Bubble-gum pink lips moistened with tips of red tongues.

His palms grew sweaty as Charlotte stepped closer, jutting her pelvis and hip out before spreading her legs and bending low in front of him. Lola was just behind her and as the brunette straightened up, Lola had brought her hands around her, cupping her breasts and squeezing until the mounds of flesh squeezed between her fingers.

Raphael swallowed dryly. Okay, so maybe this wasn't too bad. Just as long as they stayed back, he could maybe relax and just watch the show. That would be all right. Just sitting here. No one could fault him for that, right? Beads of sweat grew and spilled down the side of his face, dribbling down his neck. There must have been a space heater or something on in the room, because it only seemed to be growing hotter and hotter with each passing second.

Lola released Charlotte's breasts and as she did the bra fell away, revealing her bare breasts. They bounced slightly, full and lovely, nipples large and dark. Raphael's throat worked. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch those strange little nubs. He wanted to see what they felt like, roll them between finger and thumb, pinch and pull at them, see what they tasted like. His bottom lip drew in a little as he bit it, watching at the brunette started to roll her palms over them and then pinch them.

He sat completely mesmerized until Lola smacked Charlotte's ass. She gave a little shriek. His brows raised. Was something wrong? He tensed and looked between the women wondering what had just happened and then the women both laughed. She turned and returned the favor. The crack of hand on flesh snapped in the air and Lola squealed and ran behind the chair. He was just sitting back when Lola draped her arms over his shoulders. Raphael jumped and squirmed in his seat.

"Charlotte you naughty girl. That stung!"

"You started it."

"I think Charlotte needs some discipline, don't you, sugar?" Lola purred in his ear.

Raphael glanced over his shoulder, completely lost as to what he should be doing if anything. "Uh, er . . ."

Charlotte continued to smile wickedly at him as she wiggled free of her thong. He clamped his mouth shut. His eyes locked on the triangle of neatly trimmed dark hair at the join of her legs. Heat pooled in his loins as his stomach flipped and twisted. His hips rolled forward a little as he slid down in his seat a bit. She flung the garment at Raphael and it caught on his snout. He couldn't help it, sniffing at the lingerie as he quickly removed it from his reddened face. It smelled of some floral soap but also of something musky and heady that sharpened his senses. Another jolt went through his groin.

He felt Lola pressing her breasts against the back of his head. She was murmuring something about how hot he was which was ridiculous, he knew, but it was really nice to hear and he didn't want her to stop. He wanted to believe that the blonde really thought that, he wanted to pretend it was real. Even when he knew it wasn't. No fuckin' way. But he could still pretend. Face burning, he chuckled nervously, cocking his brow to say something self-deprecating, but was cut off as Charlotte stepped up to him and spread her legs. She fell into a crouch and started to tug at his left boot.

His eyes widened as the scent of her arousal hit him like a moving car. He couldn't stop himself. His body reacted and the jeans became a cruel confinement, pinching and constricting him as his throbbing cock pushed free from the protected hollow between his lowest segment of plastron and the tender flesh between his legs. He felt his tail swell and prickle as well, something that only happened when he was really worked up. The last time that happened . . .

His mind filled with a vision that he'd locked away deep inside. Something he never thought about. Something he'd tried his best to block out of his memory forever. But here it was rising up to clobber him with the terrible grip of long ignored desire.

Every detail came back so crisp and vivid it was like it had happened just the other day. But it was years ago. Not much after they had met and befriended her. April had called them. She needed something fixed and Leo was out with Michelangelo so Donatello and he had come up to see what they could do. Something about the plumbing in the apartment's bathroom acting up. Don had tried to loosen a pipe under the sink but only made the situation worse and flooded the bathroom before storming out to go shut off the water main from the basement.

April had been crouching next to them. Her hair pulled back in a messy bun, white t-shirt, light blue jeans rolled at the ankle. The knees were ripped, the edges were tattered. The water had erupted out at them like in a cartoon. He was doused but so was she. His face turned to ask if she was okay and that's when he saw them.

The t-shirt she was wearing had gotten drenched. The material clung to her breasts, hugging the dips and curves of those perfect mounds and his eyes could not move from the little brownish pink nipples poking through the fabric. Straight at him. Begging for attention. Teasing him. He sat staring open mouthed and struck dumb with awe. Of course, she noticed his vacant stare and laughed it off as her face turned a bright red. She had gotten up in a flustered rush and raced out of the bathroom.

He had sat there for a few minutes, stunned and lost in his own powerful storm of lust and need, before he realized what an ass he'd just made of himself. Raph jumped to his feet, realizing that he needed to apologize for his rudeness. Face burning, he dashed to her room down and across the hall. His feet staggered to a halt. Her bedroom door was propped open and from the crack he saw her.

God, he should have turned away. A better man would have. A stronger man. A decent man would have at least closed his eyes. But he was nothing but a freak; trash. Not only that, but he had a secret crush on the woman that he'd been nursing since he first laid eyes on her. He knew she'd never see him as more than an oddity, a friend at most, so he didn't dare pursue it, not even in his thoughts. But she was so beautiful and he just couldn't help himself. He didn't deserve someone as perfect as April. This would be the closest he ever got. So he stood there, gaping like an idiot as she pulled the sopping shirt up over her head revealing her gorgeous, moist breasts to him. They were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would have still been standing there, had not Donnie reemerged, a bucket and mop in one hand at the end of the hall.

"What are you standing around for?"

Raphael jumped a foot in the air and scrambled back to the bathroom. Immediately he started to clean the water up. He couldn't meet April's eyes for the rest of the night. He made a point to be out of the lair when he knew she was coming over for the next few weeks.

Lola's lips on the back of his neck brought him back to the present. He let out a low whimper and bit his tongue feeling mortified for making such a pathetic noise. He fidgeted and shifted where he sat, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but that really wasn't going to happen until he undid his jeans. Until then, little Raph was going to remain bent at an unnatural angle.

Heart hammering, he clutched at the armrests, unsure of what to do with himself. Feeling out of his depth and more than a little embarrassed and dirty. Just as he did standing in that hallway. He should leave. He should go. This, all of this wasn't right.

But weakling that he was, he remained glued to the chair. This would no doubt be his only chance to be with a woman. He did his best to push April from his thoughts and focus on the moment. He didn't want to hurt, he wanted to feel good. Wasn't that what this was all about?

"Wow," Charlotte purred, stroking the top of his foot. His leg jumped and he chuckled from the tickly feeling of her fingertips teasing the bottom of his foot. "You really are into this whole turtle-y look, aren't ya?"

She pinched one of his toes playfully and then brought her mouth down and slid her lips over it. She sucked hard. Ran her bottom teeth lightly over the pad of his toe. An intense sensation traveled from his toe up through his inner thigh and striking directly at his throbbing groin. Raphael jumped in his seat and gave a strangled cry. Lola pressed his shoulders down, laughing as he shuddered.

_"Holy shit, muther fucker,_" Raph rasped. Lola broke out in a peal of laughter. The shrill tone grated on his ears.

Charlotte wiped her bottom lip, the look of slight disgust quickly hidden and replaced with a sultry look as she removed her gum and stuck it to the bottom of the chair. "It must have been expensive as hell to get all this work done. You must be loaded."

He could only nod mutely. Shocked into stunned immobility by what just happened. Why the hell would anyone want to put his toe in their mouth? He didn't understand at all, but it felt incredible. Despite the strange twist of guilt he felt, he kind of wished she'd do it again. His body felt like half was on fire and half was numb and tingling. So what if they thought he was a nutcase. They didn't care that he was trash. Or a freak. In fact, nothing mattered except their hands on him, their lips kissing his skin, sucking on him, oh god, the music pulsing over his painfully sensitized body, the way the room spun pleasantly and his head floated swimming in a sea of drunken ignorant bliss. Let them think whatever the hell they wanted as long as they didn't stop. He was beginning to surrender himself to the experience.

Charlotte started on the other boot as Lola worked her hands over his chest from behind. Her spicy perfume stung is nose and he wrinkled it a little. But it was nice. His drunken mind flashed to an image of throwing her down on the floor and rolling his face into her breasts, rubbing that burn-y, spicy scent into his face. He twitched, nearly spinning around to pull her over the back of the chair so he could act on the heated vision. But her hands on his chest stopped him. Her fingers felt soft and smooth against the planes of his plastron. The feel of her hands sent tingles through his body. He shivered. He'd never felt anything like this before. It was soothing and enticing all at once, making him feel slightly dizzy. But then again, the dizziness might have been the alcohol.

He shrugged, a goofy smile starting to spread across his mouth. Everything felt so damn good. This was heaven! He never wanted it to end. He suddenly couldn't remember what had him so worked up about earlier. Casey was right. This was the best gift ever! What a friend! What a genius!

He let out a soft moan as Lola's hands moved down to the center of his abdomen then back up and over his collar bone, hooking her fingers along the zipper of his leather jacket, pulling it in both directions to remove it. He sat up a little to assist the activity, eyes locked on Charlotte as she brought her well-manicured hands up over his knees to the insides of his thighs, rubbing, stroking and pulling on the tensed muscles. Through his pant legs, he could feel the soft heat of her breasts pressing against his legs. Her fingers moved closer to his groin and he closed his eyes with a soft groan. If he wasn't at such an awkward and painful angle, this would have been bliss.

"Let's get these off," Charlotte said and her fingers crept over the large bulge in his pants and he jolted from the slight touch, whimpering a little. Her dark eyes snapped up to his. "Easy tiger. Let's not have this finish before it really gets started."

"I bet you're huge," Lola murmured into his neck, licking him and sending another cascade of delicious shivers through his body.

His fingers clutched at the arm rests, remaining in place, the only spot he felt he should keep them. Still so unsure how much he was allowed to do. Terrified of messing this up somehow, knowing in the back of his mind that it was getting a bit too intense and he really should just go before it all blew up in his face. Warning signs were blaring in the back of his mind but they were drowned out by the pumping bass of the music.

"Is it like the rest of you?" Charlotte asked with one brow raised. A look that might have been a mix of teasing and worry in her eye. Yeah, she thought he was a nutcase.

"Uh," was all he could manage before chuckling, "Funny you should say tha'," he slurred, blinking. Suddenly, he wondered if he should prepare them. He was similar to human men. Very similar. But he was different, too. Like the rest of his body. The button popped open at the top of his fly.

"I, uh, I'm not like other guys," he started.

It was hard to talk straight, let alone think straight, but something in the back of his mind, the part that he relied on during battles to keep his hide in one piece, was having a fit trying to alert him to some danger he was not noticing. The front of his mind, steeped in animal lust smothered the frantic nonsense until it joined the white noise that made up the rest of his rational thought.

"Yeah, you're super hot," Lola lied sweetly into his ear, blowing down the side of his neck and making his head pinch to one side. "I wanna see it. Let him out of those jeans, Char." Lola stroked his face as she moved around to stand behind the brunette. She crouched down and took his hand and pried it off the arm rest. Taking his finger, she slid it into her mouth and bit lightly down on the knuckle.

"Oh god, _fuck_," Raph groaned, feeling similar sensations to the ones he felt when Charlotte had sucked on his toe. "Uh, uh, uhm, wh-what was I sayin'?"

"You were telling us how huge your cock is," Charlotte said and yanked at the fly of his pants and tugged it up and over him.

His throbbing member sprang out from where it was bent and confined in all its mutant glory. Ten inches of thick sex topped with a large knob, dark purple and roughly spade shaped. The edges of it flattened out as the air hit it.

Charlotte made a choked sound through her nose. "Holy fuck!" she hollered as she lumbered back and knocked into Lola. The women scrambled over each other. Then in unison they screamed clutching each other with shocked expressions.

Raphael, face burning, moved to quickly cover his throbbing shame with both hands. This was bad. This was worse than bad.

He stammered, voice thick with humiliation, "I-I can explain . . .It-It's not that bad . . . I-I'm . . ."

Charlotte pointed at him with one long fingernail. Her voice was rising, "Did that thing just uncurl? Did you see that, Lola! What thefuck!?" The women squealed in terror. "Have you ever-?"

Lola was shaking her head violently from side to side.

"Never. I've never seen one that color," the blonde rose up on her knees, mouth open and nose scrunched in fascinated horror. "Or-or-or, shape or . . . _ew_!"

A nervous peal of her shrill laughter filled the room. Charlotte and her exchanged horrified and amused looks and that was all it took. With a huff and jerking movements, Raphael shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders and snatched his boots. He stood up on wavering, weak legs, stomach sinking into his shaking knees, his erection standing straight up as he did his best to hoist up the front of his pants to cover himself.

He staggered towards the doors but was blocked by the women sitting nearly on top of one another, one was laughing the other one looked angry. His burning eyes darted around. He never felt more like he wanted to die than at that perfect moment of complete humiliation. He was a damn fool. His heart raced. His stomach churned. He felt like he was about to vomit. Grinding his teeth he wheeled around, looking for escape.

"I'm gonna need a lot more money to work with that!" she was yelling. "Casey never said anything about a fucked up cock. I've seen piercings, I've seen long ones, thin ones, fat ones, but I've never seen one so . . . so . . ."

"Gross?!" Lola supplied and burst out into another fit of laughter. Charlotte was still yelling as he spun on his heel away, eyes closed, face nearly purple with mortification. There was only one way out. He dashed across the room.

Casey sat on the porch. Crickets chirped around him to the beat of the music coming from the house. He cocked his head to one side, dropping the sports' section to the side of the porch swing. Was that a scream he just heard? He chuckled and went back to the paper.

"That's my boy."

The crash right above where he sat had him falling off the swing. He scrambled to stand up as what looked like Raph rolled off the roof of the porch and landed in a cursing heap on the lawn in front of him.

"Raph?"

Without another word, his buddy was on his feet and tearing ass across the lawn towards his bike.

"Raph! Wait!" Casey called out to him. Then softer, "What the hell happened up there?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Heart thumping, he raced to where his bike was stashed near a large cluster of overgrown bushes and weeds. Distantly, he heard Casey calling over the steady bass of the music coming from the farm house. Cursing under his breath, he jammed one boot on then the other. His erection throbbed in protest as he did his best to shove it to one side and zip up his pants, nearly catching the tender flesh in the teeth of the zipper. Tears stung his eyes and the back of his neck and cheeks burned. He felt like he was drowning in tar.

He would never speak to Casey again. Actually, he had a few choice words he was going to share as he beat the living shit out of the man and then he'd never speak to him again. He knew this was a fucked up idea. What the hell was he thinking going along with this hair-brained idea? No matter how much he wanted to pretend, no matter how much he wanted it, he and his brothers would never, ever be accepted by the human world. Not even if they were paid.

His brothers could never learn of this fiasco. Oh, Leo would have a field day with this.

"Fuck!" Raph blurted as he swung one leg up and over the seat.

He sat down hard and the frame bounced as the springs in the suspension creaked with his bulky weight. He flicked the kill switch to the 'on' position with his thumb and turned the ignition key. His fists clutched at the handles as the engine started and gauges lit up, coming to life. For a brief second he questioned if riding off in his condition was wise, but it wouldn't be the first time he rode under the influence. And there was no way in hell he was spending the rest of the night up here, let alone another second. If he had a lighter on him he would've set the place afire before he left. With a growl, he pulled the handles around with a jerk and twisted the throttle. The engine roared and he kicked the ground with the toe of one boot, speeding off, spraying gravel in a wide path.

His jaw clenched. The air stung his face. He'd only been on the road a few minutes when his vision already blurry from the alcohol was blinded by tears. He cursed. Hating himself for being so fucking weak. He told himself it was the cool night air hitting them, making them water and stream like that, nothing more. He lifted his left fist to wipe at his moist eyes. As his hand dropped back to the handle, he was blinded again but this time not by the tears of humiliation. Twin yellow headlights came barreling around the blind corner ahead. Straight for him. Raph didn't know when he'd drifted into the opposite lane, but it was too late to do much more than yank the steering to one side, tipping the bike nearly sideways to avoid getting hit. The driver of the van must have spotted him, for it veered luckily in the opposite direction.

Squealing tires and howling steel scraping against gravel and asphalt filled the air. Raph braced himself as the bike careened and slid; turning as much as he could so that his shell took most of the impact. He hissed as the jeans were reduced to tattered frays of thread along with the skin of his upper thigh and part of his calf. He was dragged over the side of the road, into and through a mass of overgrowth. The back of his head slammed against the ground. Branches tore the sleeves of his jacket and ripped into his face. The bike crushed him and then was gone. His body crashed through several small trees until he came to a tumbling stop at the edge of a small stream. One arm lay in the muddy water. He raised his spinning head up a few inches and groaned.

He didn't know how long he lay there, but it couldn't have been long. When he cracked his eye open, it was still dark around him. Crickets and other nocturnal insects chirping cheerfully all around him. The sound of the stream trickling nearly lulled him back into unconsciousness. His lid eased closed and then he felt hands on him. He tensed. Rolling around, he brought his dripping fist up and around. The person fell back with a yelp, just missing getting his or her jaw cracked with a back hand. The motion cost him though, as nausea churned his stomach and his eyes rolled.

"Raph!"

The voice was familiar but didn't fit in the surroundings. He blinked and tried to focus as a familiar feminine face filled his vision. He frowned.

"A-April?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Wha . . . what 'er you doin' out here?"

"Shh," she replied, as her hands flitted from the top of his head, to the side of his face, to his chest and finally his upper thigh. Her fingers closed around the muscle and she squeezed, checking for broken bones, but it was a bit too close to his groin for comfort. He flinched. Through the pain electrifying his system a jolt of the lingering heat of his earlier arousal speared him. Face burning, he shifted away from her and April chalked it up to his apparent pain.

"Oh, sorry." She checked lower on his calf and made a sympathetic noise as she took in the lacerations running up and down his exposed leg. "You're pretty torn up, but I don't think anything's broken. Do you think you can sit up?"

"'Course," he grouched and shoved at her as he lumbered to a sitting position. His pounding head swam and he swayed right into her arms.

"Okay, Big Guy, not so fast. You don't have to prove anything to me."

He shot her a glare. "Ain't trying to prove anythin'. I'm fine."

She wrinkled her nose up as the rank stench of his heavy drinking hit her. "Raph. You know better than to be drinking and driving . . ."

With that he clambered to his knee and then a bit more roughly than he intended, he used her shoulder to brace himself as he rose to stand. He staggered to one side and gripped a small tree for support. Shocked, April sat there and then crossed her arms and watched the show. Raphael could be unbelievably stubborn, and a part of her wanted to just get up and leave him there, but she was also worried he was going to hurt himself worse. She'd nearly hit him with the van and though she didn't catch his spill, just from the condition of his body, she knew he was in pain.

"I don't need no lecture right now," he told her through gritted teeth and eyes clamped shut, as he waited for the world to stop tilting and spinning so fast. The pounding pain between his eyes increased. This night was getting better and better.

"Leo asked me to come check on you. He said Casey called you up here to the farm house and you left in a huff. They were worried."

He brought a finger and thumb to press into his throbbing eyes. "Yeah, I bet. Was doin' fine until you came along and nearly flattened me with the van."

April got to her feet. She moved to wrap her arm around his shoulder as he started towards the incline of the hill they stood at the base of. He shrugged away from her, not looking at her. He made a gruff noise that might have been him telling her to leave him alone. The hurt she felt at his rejection flared into anger. She brushed past him and marched up the incline. At the top of the hill she turned around and waited arms crossed.

He glanced up at her. From where he stood swaying in his tattered clothes, he looked much younger than his twenty one years. Even from there, she could see those fierce eyes flashing, defiant and self-sure, stubborn and determined. A soft smile spread on her face, her earlier anger at him dissipated. She never could stay mad at him for long.

She remembered him as he was when they had first met. He was just a kid then, only fifteen and she was twenty two. His gruff attitude and aloof nature had her wondering if he merely tolerated her presence around him or if he really just didn't like her at all after he'd gotten to know her. It was surprising, because his brothers had taken to her almost immediately. Whenever she'd be alone with him, he seemed uncomfortable and usually poked his face into a racing magazine or turned his complete attention to his heavy bag. They hardly ever spoke.

Despite her initial fear that he didn't like her, she did her best to win him over. He was special to her. Even more so than his brothers. He was different. A tough guy through and through, but with a heart of gold. A heart he kept so well protected and hidden beneath layers of acidic sarcasm and anger, even his brothers thought he didn't have one. But April saw through the act. He was afraid to let anyone close. That much was obvious. There were moments over the years that she'd glimpsed him in a vulnerable state. In those rare and precious moments, she had felt something a little warmer than familial love blossom within her. Something that she didn't experience around any of his brothers. Something she hadn't really felt since her last serious relationship, years ago. Something she was sure he didn't share. April had her own secrets well hidden and guarded.

He stumbled forward, heading up the hill towards the road where April stood, having to grip at small branches for support. They only snapped as he tried to pull himself up. He growled and cursed with each struggling step, but managed to finally make it to where she stood. He was panting and out of breath; leaning heavily on his thighs with pale knuckled hands. His left leg was a mess of torn up flesh and blood. Sweat was pouring down his head and face.

"Let's go," she said simply. "We'll get Casey to bring back your bike to the lair with his pick-up later."

She moved to head back to the van when out of the corner of her eye she saw him nearly topple. She twisted and caught him, stumbling a little from his weight. He looked miserable and like he was about to be ill. His face was scratched but it was pale in the dim light. Watery amber eyes filled with pain turned to her.

"You gonna let me help you now?"

He nodded mutely, finally swallowing his pride; surrendering to her assistance. She brought his arm around her shoulders and turned her face so he wouldn't see the triumphant smile appear. A smile that she couldn't help but make as the warmth within her spread.

He sat in sullen silence all the way to her apartment and as they pulled up he frowned.

"The lair's entrance is closer over near 22nd and Laird."

"I told Leo that you'd spend the night at my place." She added quickly, "So that he could go to bed."

Great. Leo had been waiting up for him. Why wasn't he surprised? He huffed and got out as she ran around the front of the vehicle to help him. He pulled out of her grasp with a snort and glared at the ground between them until she got the idea and stepped back. From the corner of his eye, he saw her put her fists on her hips. With a frustrated sigh, she spun on her heel and moved to unlock the front door.

It hurt like hell to go up the stairs to her second floor apartment but he endured it rather than have her so close to him again. She climbed ahead of him. Not talking. As he wanted. He kept himself a few feet behind. Her scent wafted down to him, like strawberries and . . . an aroma he could only describe as 'homey'. It was nearly too much for him to deal with in his emotionally fragile state.

They entered her apartment and he leaned heavily on the wall just inside the door in her small living room. He just wanted to ice his knee and go to bed. As though reading his mind. April reappeared from the kitchen with an ice pack and a bowl of water with a rag hanging off one side. He shrugged out of his ruined leather jacket and looked at it morosely where it lay on the arm rest of her couch. She tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped.

"The boots and pants."

He glanced down and his head swam. He looked up at her with raised eyes, head still lowered. "Uh, I don't think so."

She handed him the bag of ice and set the bowl of water down, balancing it on the back of her couch. She crossed her arms. In a patient voice, she explained, "Raph, those pants are destroyed and your leg needs to get cleaned up. Now you either take them off or I will."

_"No!_" he barked, a bit quickly.

Her brows raised. She looked at him with the questions written clearly in her gaze. He clamped his mouth shut. Blood-shot eyes bounced between hers and then he lumbered past her, limping towards her bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him.

April sighed, her eyes fixed on the bowl of water she had brought to clean his wounds with. As usual he didn't want anything to do with her. She couldn't deny the surge of annoyance was accompanied by a feeling of bitter disappointment. She really should be used to this by now. Nothing could change if he wasn't interested. Or worse, she thought, if he was but wouldn't allow her to get close to him.

Because there had been moments over the years when it seemed as though maybe . . . just maybe, he was hiding his feelings from her. Feelings that he didn't want anyone to learn he had. She was attractive to him, she was sure of it. She slowly realized it from the times she caught him staring from the corner of her eye. When she'd turn to speak to him, he'd swiftly look away, suddenly interested in the television or whatever magazine was in his grasp. There were times he seemed to almost want to say something to her but then the tense moment would pass and it felt as if all the air in the room went out with his departure.

And then there was that time, when he and Donatello had come to fix the pipe in her bathroom and she was drenched. He was lost to the world as he took in her form. She'd felt the heat come off him in a powerful wave that took her breath away. Honestly, her body reacted so sharply to that look he gave her, it took her several minutes in her room to catch her breath before she could even peel out of the wet shirt she was in.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just her female pride. Maybe he really couldn't stand her. But still. He was banged up pretty good. There was a chance he had a concussion. Her fingers tapped on the edge of the bowl. Her own stubbornness flared to life. She marched to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"What?" came the terse reply.

"Do you . . . if you need any –"

"I _don't_," he bit out.

"Raph," she said, voice hushed, soft. "I-I just . . ." _want to help you. Why won't you let me in? Why are you so afraid to let me get close,_ her mind finished for her.

Inside the bathroom, Raphael cocked his head. The tone in her voice making him pause. He was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his burning leg stretched out at an odd angle as he tried to wipe the stinging cuts with a rag. He listened. Suddenly really wanting to know what she was going to say next. But no further words came, only the soft sound of her feet shuffling away. He dropped the back of his head against the wall behind him and pinched his eyes shut.

"Fuck," he said quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

She froze as the door creaked behind her. Jutting her chin, she continued down the hallway, ignoring the soft breathy sound followed by the exasperated sigh. She stepped into the kitchen and immediately started to unload the dishwasher, slamming cabinet doors open and closed and clanking plates and silverware together. Raph winced at the loud sounds. His head was pounding and spinning. He should have never drank as much as he did. Hell, he should have just ignored that call he'd gotten hours ago from his supposed friend. He limped forward, bracing the wet towel against his oozing thigh.

"I hope you're all cleaned up already. Because I'm not mopping up your blood."

He staggered to a halt and glanced at the ragged line of cuts and scrapes dripping and dribbling down the frayed fabric of what was left of his favorite pair of leather pants. He grimaced for the loss more than the pain. He shuffled around, heading back to the bathroom and stopped. His shoulders slumped.

"Could use some help."

"What was that?"

Of course she wasn't going to make this easy. Raph felt his temper flare. He wouldn't even be here if she didn't nearly plow him over with the van. His fingers tightened around the rag in his hand. He'd had just about enough of women to last him for a lifetime. His sharp retort caught in his throat and died a swift death as he turned his face to meet her standing just behind him.

"Come on," she said, eyes twinkling. With her fingertips she turned his broad shoulders towards the direction he was heading but instead of going into the bathroom as he assumed, she continued to push him towards the end of the hallway. His legs suddenly turned to water. Why were they heading for her bedroom?

"Uh," he started, then stopped, grinding his heels into the carpet. The force of the abrupt halt had her stumbling into his shell. They lurched forward a little.

"Little warning next time," she laughed and adjusted her blouse as she moved in front of him. She backed up into the room and he remained glued to the spot. "Raph, you're dripping on my hallway carpeting."

He jumped as if receiving a small electric jolt and hurried into the room. She motioned for him to sit on a computer chair that she had wheeled away from a small desk tucked into the corner of her room. The space was small and cramped. Hardly enough room for the queen sized bed besides a desk and dresser. He limped and turned to sit, but she caught him under his arms. Inadvertently tickling him. He jerked and shrugged away from her.

_"Stop!"_ he barked.

She cocked a brow, ignoring how he ducked his head and kept his gaze down, fiddling with the rag in his hands. April came up to him. Close. Very, very close. He raised his eyes. She slowly moved her hands to slip beneath the rag to the button of his pants. He stiffened. Eyes bouncing between hers with a deep frown. Her fingers undid the button and his breath hitched as she unzipped his fly. His hands dropped the rag and he gripped her wrists, hard. It was her turn to catch her breath. She swallowed and licked her lips. He watched the movement of her tongue sweeping over them with an intense gaze that had her heart thumping.

"They have to come off," she said in a hoarse whisper.

He blinked several times, coming back from whatever had just gripped him. He relented, released her wrists and nodded. He braced himself as she drove her thumbs under his waist band and carefully but firmly slid the pants over his hips, crouching as she continued down, mindful of his torn up leg. His stomach tightened and his eyes were locked on the ceiling as her face came within an inch of his groin. His earlier unsatisfied arousal reignited with a ferocity that physically hurt. A tremor went through him as her breath ghosted across his thigh. It took all of his strength to remain hidden; he drew on his earlier humiliation for composure. And while that was enough, a small strangled sound still erupted out of him. He hastily cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. At the same time his knees gave out, causing him to land heavily into the chair behind him.

April, seemingly ignorant of what her proximity was doing to him, pulled the pants free from his legs. They never really wore clothes around the lair, usually donning the items for disguise or for protection from the elements. He was almost always free of any garments when April was around but there was something erotic about her undressing him like this. He felt oddly exposed and his legs twitched and pulled together. His hands fidgeted on his lap, fingers yanking and toying with the ends of the rag, pulling it free from where he'd sat on it. He jumped as she ran her hand up from the top of his foot to his knee and gently turned his leg to examine the scrapes and cuts.

"Uh, uhum, ahem," he cleared his throat again and shifted.

She made a hissing sound and he felt a sharp jab as she brushed some embedded gravel free. He stared at the top of her head, stomach tight and roiling, heart slamming against his ribs and head swimming. She gave him a pat, stood up and left the room. He released his held breath and ran a shaking hand over his grimy face.

What a night. If he made it to the morning in one piece he was gonna dismember Casey Jones and scatter his charred remains over the Hudson River. More gruesome and much more violent thoughts of what he was going to enact against his imbecile of a friend were interrupted as April returned. She had a first aid kit tucked under her arm, a fresh wash cloth and a bottle of what looked like something that would sting. She gave him a reassuring smile and knelt, rolling his knee to one side once more to start cleaning out his burning wounds.

"You should be grateful, you know. You're really lucky you didn't break anything."

He huffed, "Yeah. It's been a charmed night." He hissed a little between gritted teeth as she pressed the antiseptic doused rag up against one of his deeper cuts.

She looked up at him, green eyes gleaming in the dim light, "Sorry, big guy."

"It's nothin'," he said thickly and turned his face to lean his mouth against one fist, elbow propped on the armrest of the chair.

"What were you doing out there?" she asked and gingerly cleaned more of his injuries.

He shrugged.

"Leo said Casey called you out there. Why? Didn't he know it was your birthday today?" she asked. She had been at the lair earlier for cake and had given him a wicked switch blade with a black Pakkawood handle. In it was engraved the words 'fierce tiger' in Kanji. It was gorgeous. He had decided he'd never be parted from it. It was laying in one of the hidden pockets of his jacket in the living room.

"Uh, yeah. He, uh, um, wanted to give me a _gift_," he said with a rough chuckle, meaning to be sarcastic but unfortunately, he didn't anticipate the questions or all the trouble that simple statement would raise.

"Oh? What did he get you?" she asked, brow raised and her eyes raked over his face, landing on the side of his neck to see the smears of what was too pink to be blood. He squirmed as her eyes widened then narrowed. He felt something shift in the air between them then. "I see," she sighed and dug the rag roughly over a series of scraps hard enough to have his back arch and his toes curl.

"Unf! What the hell was that for?"

"Oh, did that hurt? I'm sorry."

Her voice was flat and anything except apologetic. He shot her a baffled look. She continued cleaning and wrapping bandaids onto some of his smaller cuts, still with a rough edge to her handling. He moved his leg and pushed the chair back a little. Maybe this was a bad idea. She snatched the front of the chair between his legs and jerked it back towards herself and went back to what she was doing. He opened his mouth to say he could take it from there, but she cut him off.

"So, did you enjoy your gift?" she said and her voice was dripping with something acidic.

"Uh, um, n-not especially," he muttered and rubbed his face. "Can we talk about something else?"

"I guess I know why you were drinking so much. Oh, that Jones." She shook her head and clenched her jaw.

"Can you drop it?"

"Hopefully you didn't catch anything."

"What?"

"Oh, you're right. She probably came prepared." She tied the gauze, pulling the ends with a sharp yank. He gritted his teeth against the pain. April seemed pissed about something. Really pissed. But his drunk mind could not make the connection. But the next thing she said locked everything into place with an almost painful clarity. "So, tell me. Was she pretty?"

His mouth hung open. He snapped it closed. "Wh-What?"

"Nevermind," she gathered up the supplies with jerking motions. She stood up, "I don't want to know. I don't ever, ever want to know."

"April."

She took two steps and stopped. Speaking to the room, back to him she said, "No, seriously. It's fine." Now her voice was full of genuine apology. Her shoulders slumped. "I mean, you're a grown man, now. I shouldn't . . . judge. I'm sorry."

His mouth opened and closed but he had no idea what to say. He stood up and limped towards her, completely confused and unsure but something in the back of his mind was scratching at the door of comprehension. He touched her arm and she shrugged away from him. She marched out of the room and he sat down on her bed, lost. When she came back into the room, she had a smile plastered on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Okay. You're all set." She glanced around and said to the floor. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

Raph shook his head, still trying to understand what was going on, but she just stood there, saying nothing more. The silence stretched out and became uneasy and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Slowly, he came to his feet, looking around, mouth open slightly. Completely lost.

"Uh, okay. Um, Let me get out of your way."

As he moved past her, she murmured, "Happy birthday, Raphael. Hope it was worth it."

He froze and tilted his head. "April." He sighed and forced out what he needed to say, "If there's somethin' ya need to say to me, then just spit it out. 'Cuz I can tell you're pissed but I have no idea what I did ta make ya so mad at me."

"I-I'm not mad."

"Oh."

"I'm just . . ."

He waited, holding his breath.

"Surprised."

He frowned. She hugged herself. Shook her head. A nervous laugh erupted out of her. She was going to brush it off but something was screaming at him to hold onto this moment of honesty. He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. Her chuckling cut off immediately and she gazed into his eyes with a serious and sad expression.

"What do ya mean? Surprised at what?"

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "I just . . . I dunno. I guess I thought maybe you . . . you didn't find human women attractive."

Raphael's face dropped into a frown. _"What?_" He had no idea where this was coming from. "Wait a minute, what gave you that idea?"

"Actually, you know what? It's none of my business." Her voice was rising and the tone got harsher, even as a smile spread across her mouth and it wasn't pretty. It was savage. "I mean, if you want to have sex with some-some skanky, scummy _prostitute _. . ."

His eyes turned into circles. His breath sucked in. "You're right," he snapped, letting go of her arm, cheeks blazing. The humiliation and regret wrapped long fingers around his throat. She stumbled back a step. "That's none of your god damn business."

"That's why I'm surprised, Raph," she went on and he stared at her in disbelief. "I just thought Splinter instilled some kind of morality . . ."

He came up on her then, fast and imposing, cutting off whatever else she was about to say. He couldn't deal with this bullshit. Not tonight. Not after the humiliation he'd endured. The shame still burning bright in his gut. The self-loathing churning and churning into something thick and cloying. He stared hard into her eyes and she met his fierce gaze coolly. Then she pushed him. He barely moved but he was stunned. She pushed him again, then punching him against his plastron with the base of her fists.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he growled and caught her wrists. He could snap her in two, not that he'd ever lay a finger on her. But he was nobody's punching bag.

She turned her head to the side and laughed, then swore. His eyes widened at her outburst.

"April, are you . . . are you drunk?" he asked with a shake of his head.

"I wish I was." She bit her bottom lip. "Oh god. Let me go, Raph. Please."

He shook his head. "No way. Hell no. You gotta explain this to me. What the fuck is goin' on with you?"

She turned her face to his. Her glassy eyes bounced between his. "I just . . . why would you waste that?"

He shook his head, his face a mask of complete confusion. What was she talking about? He really wished he understood. But she had him baffled. At one moment she seemed concerned about him, then pissed, then all weird and then apologetic and then pissed as hell at him again, trying to fight with him like a nut job, and then back to that sad sort of regretful tone in her voice. What the hell was happening? He opened his mouth as his fingers loosened their grip on her arms, intending to tell her he would just call it a night and to forget about the bizarre conversation. But he never got the chance.

The world came crashing down all around him as she moved swiftly forward; crushing her mouth to his. He stumbled backwards, the strength in his legs fled, knees going out from under him. His arms pin-wheeled around and he knocked over the bottles of perfume, the stack of books and papers from her dresser. She fell on top of him and his body was rocked by lust and desire so strong it dragged him under where he thought he'd never surface again.

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**A/N: **Sexy stuff comin' up!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Sex scene below at the end - sensitive, you can skip, but you'll miss the good stuff XD

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Her mouth was hungry as it pressed into his. Lips soft and sweet and urgent. Her curves pressed over him and his body wanted to press back. He wanted to roll her over and press into that softness. Her hands were stroking the sides of his face and head. A mix of a groan and a moan came out of her and suddenly his erection was a painful pressure against his lower plastron. It throbbed in time with his hammering heart.

He didn't understand. He was lost in her sudden, unexpected passion. Passion for him. How could this be real? Was he dreaming? Something was telling him it was too good to be true. Something else was telling him it was wrong.

All coherent thoughts were overwhelmed by the sensation of April kissing him. April. Beautiful, fun, smart April. His April . . . No. Their April. A lasso of guilt caught him by the throat. It yanked him from the stampeding forward progression of his lust into frozen immobility. What was he thinking? Did he really want to ruin his friendship with this woman? This beautiful person who had been his rock all these years, his compass, his beacon through the dreary dark days of self-loathing and despair? Did he really want a repeat of what he'd just gone through this evening? His stomach lurched. Cheeks reddened. He knew she wouldn't be cruel. But somehow, her rejection of him, no matter how gentle would be too much to take. It would shatter him. He couldn't risk it.

His hands stopped groping at her back and running through her hair, her impossibly silky hair, and fell to the sides of his body. He lay there, as April continued to kiss him, lost to the world until eventually, by degrees, it came to her that he was no longer responding to her. She slowed. Her urgency eased to gentle coaxing to stopping completely. She reared up, face flushed, eyes glassy and confused. Her lips were puffed and glistening. He couldn't take his eyes off of them. His body burned for her.

"S-Something . . . wrong?" she asked.

He only blinked, words to be spoken in a pile-up at the back of his mouth. He didn't know where to start. That he wanted her? That he'd wanted her since he was just a kid? That he was hopelessly in love with her? But also that she terrified him, and that he was scared of losing her or ruining her friendship with his brothers. And that she was too good for something like him. He was a wreck. And she was so steady and perfect. He would only ruin that in her. He could barely keep his relationships with his brothers intact, how did he ever dare to dream he could make one work with someone as amazing as her? But when it all came down to it, none of that mattered because she couldn't possibly want him the way he wanted her. Could she? But then . . . what was this kissing stuff about? He was lost and his head hurt too much to think any harder. He grimaced.

As she stared down at him, waiting for an answer, but only getting his pained look, her expression shifted from confusion to hurt to humiliation so quick if he would have blinked he'd have missed the show. Raphael hated himself more than anything in that moment. He was already doing the damage that he was so good at creating. The only thing he was ever good at; destruction. Still, it crushed him to see her hurting, he opened his mouth but she cut him off.

"I'm sorry." She scurried off him, backing up between his legs. But there was nowhere else to go, so she crouched there, unaware of the throbbing need that was making his groin bulge and ache. Unaware of the tangled emotions that were wrapping him into impossible knots. She dropped her forehead into both hands. Chest heaving, he raised up on his elbows.

"April," he rasped. It was all he could do. His mind was spinning and he didn't understand what just happened here.

"Oh god. Raphael." She dropped her hands down with a loud slap against her lap. She chuckled and it was awkward and sharp at the edges. She wouldn't look at him. But she held up her hands in surrender. "Can we just pretend that didn't happen?"

"Yeah," he swallowed the word as he said it, choking on it. Whatever this was, April apparently regretted it as much as he regretted ever answering his phone earlier when Casey had called. But for a moment, just one second there, he thought, he fooled himself into believing that April had felt something for him. Something that he'd dreamt of and fantasized about in his loneliest moments. But the fire in that kiss. The need. He didn't imagine that. And she got mad when she thought he'd had sex with a prostitute tonight. Things were falling into place. He frowned. Terror and joy warred within him.

"No," he amended and sat himself up. He reached out to her, scared that she'd turn away. But she just sat there and gathering courage, he pulled her closer, between his legs, against his body in a tight embrace. Once he had her firmly in his arms, he was determined not to let her go. His heart was galloping and he had no clue what he was doing, but he just went with it.

She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. Looking miserable. His heart pitched and his stomach clenched.

"If kissin' me is gonna make you look like that, though. I don't think . . . Uh, I mean, not that you're ever gonna kiss me agai-"

She pressed her fingers into his lips, shushing him. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

His heart shriveled and shrank into his stomach. His eyes bounced between hers. "Um, I didn't mind," he said softly, feeling like he was losing out on something wonderful and precious and yet, there was no way to salvage it.

She considered for a moment, then coming to a decision she said, "I need to tell you something."

All of his body fell still as he listened with every fiber of his being.

"I . . . I've always liked you, Raphael."

He let that sink in a moment, unsure of where she'd take this conversation. It was either going to go somewhere like bliss or shoot straight to hell. He held his breath. He silently prayed for mercy. He braced himself for the worst.

"More than that, actually. I just . . . you never seemed interested . . . or well, I wasn't sure if you even liked women . . ."

He frowned softly, "You thought I was gay?"

She chuckled at that and he did as well, but the laughter ended as he resumed his rigid listening.

"No. I wasn't sure if you liked human women. And then, tonight, when I learned you . . . you had relations with a . . . a woman . . ."

"April, nothin' happened. I swear to you."

The look of relief that flooded her face killed him. A decent amount of shame hit him like a wave of poisoned water. He wasn't sure if it was because if he'd gotten the chance he would have slept with both women as many times as he could have tonight - only things didn't go that way. So, he didn't. Did that make him innocent or just a giant hypocrite? He wasn't sure.

"It-It might have," he added, trying to assuage his guilt, face turning red as she frowned. "I-I'm just bein' honest. I mean, that's what you want, right? Honesty?"

She covered his mouth. "Nothing happened?"

He shook his head.

"But you wish it did?"

He hesitated. Remorse filled his eyes and reluctantly he nodded once before catching himself and quickly shaking it negatively. A wry smile spread over April's face as understanding hit her. She slid her hand to cup his cheek.

"I care about you, Raph. You and your family. You mean so much to me. But with you . . . it's not like the others. It's different with you. It's always been that way."

His throat worked as he swallowed. "April, I'm in love with you," he blurted and his eyes widened in horror. What the hell was the matter with him?

Tender, delicate surprise worked over her face. "You are?"

He nodded. She smiled and his heart swelled. She tipped her face up and he met her lips with a gentle kiss, warm and vulnerable as he opened his heart to her. Her arm went around his neck and he scooped his arms around her body, coming up to a kneeling position then standing, still kissing her. When they broke apart, they stared into each other's eyes. No one spoke and no one moved. Both frightened that this fragile atmosphere could break with the slightest eruption of sound. But then she looked to the bed and back to him. He swallowed and stepped forward, leaning down to ease her onto the mattress. She reached up and held his arms as she laid back, pulling him down on top of her.

He bent his face to kiss her cheek, down her jaw line to the side of her neck. His fingers brushed through her hair at her temples. He felt her reach down between them. She snagged the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and off. He reared back and raked his eyes over the lace trimmed bra, the mounds of soft flesh that he ached to touch but refrained, unsure. She arched her back and undid the hooks keeping it in place. He watched with focused intensity as she slipped free from the garment.

"_Haah_, oh, April."

She arched her back a little and he needed no further invitation. He dropped and brought his mouth to one full breasts, cupping the side of it with his hand, squeezing gently. His free hand moved to cup and squeeze her other breast. His tongue tasted and lapped at the strange and alluring nub of her nipple. He pulled on it with his mouth, nipped it and suckled. Unable to contain himself anymore, his erection was freed from confinement with a soft groan. He kept his hips firmly planted between her legs, so she could not see him. And though his cheeks flushed with fear and anxiety about his exposure, her pliant breasts kept him occupied. He remained fixated for several long moments before he felt her hands go from his shoulders to the sides of his face. Reluctantly, he broke away from her breast and looked up, licking the sweet, salty taste of her flesh from his bottom lip.

She pulled him up for a deep kiss and as she did, her hands unbuttoned her pants. He stiffened and jerked away; remaining on his stomach to one side of her body, keeping his shame hidden. He looked to one side then cleared his throat. His breathing was heavy and shallow and from the corner of his eye, he saw her slid one leg then the other free. Renewed fright washed over him, cooling his passion a few degrees.

"April, are you . . . sure? I mean . . ."

"What?" she asked and rolled to her side. "Yes, Raphael. More than anything, I want you."

He closed his eyes at the sweet sound of the words but doubt nagged him, biting at the edges of his desire and making him uneasy and anxious. "It's just . . . I'm not like, you know, I'm . . ." he moved his hands helplessly and dropped his head, draping his arms over it protectively. In a whisper, face pressed to the bed under his arms, he finished his thought, "A freak."

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pressed a kiss on one broad plane. "No." She petted the back of his head and he wasn't sure if he enjoyed the feel of that or not. "Raph. Raphael. C'mon," she urged quietly. He made no move. "Look at me," she commanded.

He peeked at her over one arm.

She trailed a fingertip along the ridge of his shell, down to his shoulder and over his bicep. She planted her hand on him and gave him a little shove.

"I'm not going to tell you how beautiful you are on the inside," she said and he snorted. "Not because you aren't, Raph," she said exasperated. "But it's because I like the way you are. I like you on the outside as well as the inside."

He turned to face her fully, considering what she was telling him. Weighing her words and reassurances against his miserable humiliation from earlier. Against the depths of his own doubt and shame at what made up his physical form. The shame that he'd carried since he first became aware of just how different he and his brothers were from the rest of the world and how that fact would keep them prisoners for the rest of their long lonely lives.

"You haven't seen all of me."

"I would like to."

He shook his head. This was going to be a disaster. Why did they have to take it this far? Why couldn't he have just given her a pat on the head and left for home while he was still in one piece more or less. If she said anything to him now, if she looked at him funny, he was going to break. He just knew it. He could feel the fault lines of his heart threatening to snap.

"I can't. I just can't."

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

Understanding dawned. Had something happened at the farm house? She didn't want to bring it up so she left it for another day. When he was stronger and not so vulnerable. When he was ready to expose something more delicate and vulnerable than his manhood to her: his fears, his desires, his dreams, his heart.

"I-I trust you, April."

She placed her hand against him and applied the smallest amount of pressure. At first he didn't move then slowly, he relented. One hand covering his face in shame, he rolled over. Unable to help himself, his free hand tried to cover and hide his masculinity from her. He jumped as he felt her fingers encircle his wrist as far as she could manage and move his hand away. He moaned and trembled in fright and embarrassment, still keeping his face hidden under his other hand. He felt his erection straining against the cool air of the bedroom. She hadn't said anything and now he knew she could see his most private part. He couldn't bear to look at her, but had to know what was going through her mind. Had she decided against being physical with him after all? She was still silent and the bed shifted. He moved his hand to get a glimpse of her face, but she was gone.

His eyes shot open and his hands flew to the sides of his body, fists gripping the blanket with white knuckled force as he felt her fingers wrap around the base of his penis and her lips slip over the wide tip, tongue working against his the topmost part of him.

_"UNGH!"_

His body jerked with the overwhelming sensation. Her hot tongue and soft lips working against him, sucking and lapping at him. He felt the soft warm flesh of her breasts pressing against his trembling thigh. The back of his head slammed against the pillow. His stomach coiled and his loins tightened painfully as his hips bucked. Thrusting upwards, unable to stop himself. He felt April gag and then place one hand on his lower stomach to halt him from doing it again, but he needed to. He couldn't stop the terrible urge to thrust as his tip popped from her lips with a seductive noise and her mouth slid over the thick side of his flesh.

There was nothing like this. Nothing. No amount of masturbation with his own rough hands compared to the rippling pleasure she was sending through him. He couldn't take it. His defenses crashed, his walls tumbled.

"Uhngh, oh god, _unf_. Wha- What . . . please . . . oh fuck! Oh _fuck_!" he shouted to the ceiling. His voice took on a higher pitch as he whimpered and pinched his eyes closed as his body clenched and readied to climax. Something was building, rising up in his chest and throat along with the spiraling tension in his lower regions. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't care.

Distantly he heard her chuckle. It was not a mocking sound, but sweet, mischievous and happy. His body quaked as she pulled away, the separation of her mouth from his throbbing flesh was a sharp disappointing pain. She rested her head on her hand, her elbow braced against his upper thigh. She still held him firmly with her other hand, stroking him just a little with her thumb. He looked down at her breathless and stunned. Amazed and speechless. And more than a little let down that she stopped.

"You're beautiful, Raphael."

A pang of happiness and lust lanced through his heart and mind. He made a soft choked sound in response. Tears stung the backs of his eyes. He did not mean to get so emotional, but couldn't stop himself. It was all happening so fast. It was all so miraculous and unbelievable. Her hands, her lips, her tongue, her warmth, her desire. It was so much to take in. He needed to breathe. He needed to stop and think. He needed to process what was happening. He needed a stiff drink.

"Raphael," she said as she released him. He jerked with the motion. As she looped one perfectly toned pale leg over him to straddle him, she said with eyes glittering, "Now, I need you inside of me."

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**A/N:** Oh my goodness, I'm trying! This is so hard! LOL Why do torture scenes come so easy and lovemaking, I have to struggle through?! I'm just so worried that it's coming across cheesy!


	8. Finale

**A/N:** This is it, sweeties. The Finale.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"A-April . . . I-I mean . . . why?" he asked, voice squeaking in a very unmanly way, swimming head raised off the pillow before dropping it back down to stare at the ceiling.

Part of him wanted to shut the fuck up and go with it, another part had to know what this was. He needed to understand before he risked ruining everything. Yeah, she had said some nice things to him, things he desperately wanted to believe, but years of self-loathing culminating in the humiliation by those other women had him on the verge of something dark and bleak. His very life rested in April's hands. He couldn't take any more emotional damage, he just couldn't, and not by her. Not her. God help him, what if this was some kind of joke? Or worse, something done out of pity? He made a choked sound. And his fears must have shown clearly on his face as April froze on top of him and blinked.

Her expression softened from almost predatory to gentle, compassionate. She brought her palms up over his plastron, sliding them up over his heaving chest, leaning forward to lay flat against him. Heart to heart. Communicating in only the way lovers' hearts do, in secret exchange of the morse code of longing and need. She closed her eyes and listening to his ragged breath, the thumping of his heart above the sound of her own. Only now did she feel how he shook and only now did she really believe that nothing had happened between him and the prostitute that Casey had hired. She couldn't help but feel a jolt of gleeful joy knowing that she'd be his first. But she pushed away the thought, filing it in the back of her mind to enjoy at a later time, and refocused on him. His fear and need crashed over her and she couldn't tell which emotion was stronger.

"Shh, it's okay."

His hands went clammy as his fingers worked through the material of the blanket, clawing and releasing. This was happening so fast, he just couldn't keep up. He didn't want to be afraid. There was just so much at stake here. He felt helplessly lost in the tide of emotions rushing through him, dragging him under before he'd had a chance to take a breath. His body burned with need for her, his heart raced, his mouth went dry as he reached up with one trembling hand and stroked her silky hair, so soft beneath his calloused fingers. He turned his face and nuzzled into her hair, taking in a deep breath. Then another.

"I . . . I just . . . I mean, I don't want our friendship . . . to end, you know?"

She eased up enough to look him in the face, bracing her arms against his strong chest.

"And why would it end?"

He struggled for a moment. "I mess stuff up. I don't wanna mess this up before . . . before it even . . . Gah!" he groaned and rubbed his forehead in frustration. He flinched as he felt her fingertips stroking the side of his jaw. His eyes snapped back to her.

"I've known you for six years, Raphael. I've seen you at your best and your worst," she punctuated the word with a tap against his chin and he rolled his eyes. He didn't need to be reminded of some of the fits he'd thrown that she'd witnessed. "But it's your heart that brought me back and kept me wishing all this time." He slowly met her gaze and held it; listening. "Your amazing, loyal, loving heart. That heart that puts you directly in harm's way when you protect the people you care about like your brothers. That heart that loves so big and so hard you have to hide it or risk it getting chipped or broken."

He grasped her fingers in one hand, squeezed them gently but firmly. Her voice dropped lower, "I want to protect that beautiful heart of yours, Raphael. If you trust me enough to let me hold it . . . I promise I won't let anything happen to it."

"April," he rasped, overtaken with emotion, "You've always had it."

Her smile was triumphant without being arrogant or superior as he rolled her over onto her back. He loomed over her, eyes blazing down, burning so brightly with the passion that was searing his very soul. He brought his mouth against hers. Kissed her deeply. He felt her legs open as he shifted his weight. Dimly he registered the ache of his injuries from the crash, but they paled in comparison to the feelings that were surging through him. He pulled back, breaking the kiss and examined her face carefully for any sign of doubt.

She squirmed a little and he felt her damp heat against his length. He groaned softly at the sensation. The scent of her arousal was like an airborne drug, knocking his tentative hold on his senses reeling. But still he hesitated. Her hands were stroking up and down along the sides of his arms, then up and over his shoulders onto his broad chest, caressing the ridge of his upper plastron just below his collar bone. He shivered.

"I want you, Raphael."

He swallowed, soaking in the words. "MmmApril, oh god," he moaned into her neck as he lowered his mouth to kiss and lap at the fragile skin. He trembled and shifted his weight onto his elbows. The bed springs squeaked as he positioned his bulk better not to crush her. Then tentative and gentle, he sought out that warmth, that beckoning heat between her legs. He paused as the tip pressed against her and another tremor went through him.

"Yes, please, please Raph," she encouraged into the side of his head. His face still hidden into the crook of her neck.

"April," he murmured and it was a breath across his lips; a sigh, a resignation, a sweet surrender.

A roll of his hips had him gliding smoothly into her. He groaned as her heat surrounded him. The feeling of her silken wetness and tightness encircling him unlike anything he'd ever dreamt of before. The intensity of it had his mind blanking with only the pleasure of it. He froze for a moment, taking it in, luxuriating in the erotic lust sweeping through him. There was no coherent thought, only the sensual reality of their bodies now joined in carnal knowledge.

She tensed as she felt the wide, thick cock enter and spread her. The size of him was unlike anything she'd ever had and there was some initial discomfort that burned as her body stretched around him. Breath held, her fingers dug into the tops of his shoulders before, with a hitching inhale, her arms wrapped around his head and held on for dear life as he started to thrust, slowly, gently at first; unsure and inexperienced; frightened and excited.

But before long the trepidation of wandering into this unknown territory abated and they gave themselves to each other without holding anything back. The pleasure came rippling through her, forceful and overwhelming. He was hers. All of him. At last. She murmured into his cheek, encouraging him with soft, loving pleas and intonations: I need you, yes, please, that feels good, oh, don't stop, please don't stop. He could only repeat her name between groans and incoherent wordless sounds of need and desire.

Their bodies locked in the rocking motion of his hips and soon her words fell away and she was left with moaning matching his own in cadence and rhythm. The headboard of the bed knocked into the wall with an ever growing speed and power as Raphael began to lose himself completely in April's body.

In a moment of surfacing, he reared back to check if she was still okay; if he was doing this right; if he was a disappointment. He stared down into her flushed face. Her expression was one of heated anguish and lust. His eyes, pupils mere pinpricks, were sharply focused on her now, drinking in her partially opened mouth, her puckered brows, her eyes squinting open and closed, gazing up at him, her flaming hair in a halo around her head with tendrils glued to her forehead and one cheek from the sweat. She never looked more gloriously beautiful than she did right there, beneath him.

She surfaced from her own pleasure and in that moment as their eyes locked, a delicate smile spread across her open mouth. Her loving, happy expression chased away any lingering doubt that he was anything but what she wanted. A thrill of joy went through him. Absolute and blinding. Exhilarating. The coiling tension in his lower stomach and loins suddenly tightened and in the back of his rational mind he realized that something other than the grunts and groans was building in the back of his throat, being forced up from his chest.

Any last amount of control was slipping and it eerily reminded him of losing himself to the bloodlust on the battlefield, of his mind being lost within his body, together but separate. It was as addictive as it was terrifying and thrilling; and so frighteningly similar but for one difference, April held him. Her hands and arms and legs tethered him to reality. He was safe in her arms; safe to lose himself inside of her; she would not let him drift away; she would bring him back after he dove off into oblivion. His lifeline. His compass. He gripped her and held onto her with all his strength.

_"April!"_ he cried rough and strained into her neck. His entire body was shaking as he pistoned into her, unable to stop or slow himself. The force of it now slammed the headboard mightily into the wall and her cries became more urgent, more desperate and high pitched. She clawed at him, hands frantic. He felt her nails digging into his flesh and the sting only further pushed him towards the brink of no return.

"Oh, ungh! OH!" she cried, throwing her head back and arching her body under him. "Yes! Oh yes! Yes! Raphael! R-RAPHAEL!"

The sound of his name on her lips being shouted to the room, frenzied and hoarse, did something powerful to him. He shook his head and clamped his eyes shut as a spike of sharp lust speared him. He made a strangled, choked sound as his body contracted and his clenching jaw opened involuntarily. A rumbling, rolling growl-like noise erupted out of him as his climax surged through his body.

He slammed into her, as he wrapped his arms around her back; holding her, crushing her small frame against him, as he brought his open mouth to her shoulder; biting into the flesh, but not piercing it, enough to be pinning her as the reverberating growling churr continued with his bucking hips and spurting body. Lost in a primal need to keep her still as he finished, to fill her with his boiling seed. His body contracted again as he finished. Together they melted into one another, spent and exhausted.

He unhinged his fangs from her shoulder and immediately set to kissing the indentations gently and lapping at them, not even realizing what he was doing. He only knew he didn't want to hurt her.

He felt her kissing his cheek and he turned his face so that their lips met. They kissed and tasted each other's sweat and skin, smiling and whispering their pledges of love to one another.

"Was it . . . Did I . . . Was it . . . _okay_?" he whispered, a tiny curl of fear twisting inside him. She nodded and bit her lip then kissed him again. He breathed a sigh of relief between her mouth and chin. Then he rested his forehead against hers.

"I'll never hurt you, April," his voice was so soft and held such gentleness that April would have been surprised if she hadn't always known this side to Raphael existed. "I'll never stop loving you. Never, god, never. You're everything to me. Y-You always have been."

"I love you, Raphael. I love you so much."

He closed his eyes and smiled. She held him as he rolled to one side. He reached behind them with one swift motion, threw the blanket over their shivering, sweat soaked bodies. She reached out and caressed his face once before cuddling up closer under one strong arm that pulled her close so he could wrap his other arm over her. Sweat pearled and rolled down the sides of both their faces and necks.

Their racing hearts slowed and fell into a repeating pattern; one beat for the other. As they always had. As they always remained. Forever.

* * *

**A/N**: Whelp, hope you enjoyed this little romp into attempted smut. I adore this couple and feel that there was something between Raph and April in the very early Mirage comics but they wouldn't go into it. It's too bad, 'cuz it could've been great. :)

And anyone having doubts about older women with younger men, here's a little personal bit to chew on...my Mom is 5 years older than my dad - and they met and started to seriously date when he was 17. heh heh They've been married for 40 years now.


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